


Lucky Break

by AirieNSFW (Airie)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Danger, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Masturbation, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airie/pseuds/AirieNSFW
Summary: Dwight hides from the killer in a locker. He is soon joined by Ash. Together they blow off some steam.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Ash Williams
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Lucky Break

“Oh God, oh Christ, oh Jesus!” Dwight sniveled with his hand wrapped tightly over his mouth. His heart pounded against his ribs and sweat poured down his spine as he held in his breath, every muscle in his body tensing at the approaching sound.

A chainsaw.

“God, please don’t find me…” He cried, leaning against the back of the locker he was hiding in.

He closed his eyes, taking in a spastic breath, hearing the whirring of the mechanical blade getting closer. And then he froze with a cry creeping at the back of his throat when the dreadful sound and accompanying heavy footsteps were heard just outside of his hiding place. Inches away from him.

Game over, goodnight Dwight.

Ready to meet his end with at least some semblance dignity, he peeled his sweaty hand away from his mouth, standing up straight in his locker with both arms parallel to his sides and fists clenched. He swallowed, opening his eyes. Through the slits in the locker doors and the hot tears that just wouldn’t stop running down his cheeks, he could see the creature (person?) standing outside. This was it. This was how he died.

Yet somehow it seemed that the morbidly deformed killer was unaware of his presence. Rather, he stopped in front of the locker to catch his breath and get a better feel of his surroundings, craning his head to the left and to the right, trying to catch a glimpse (or sound) of any nearby survivors. 

_“He doesn’t know I’m in here!”_ A hopeful thought formed in Dwight’s mind. 

_“Oh God, please don’t hear me!”_ A second, more panicked thought took over. _“Come on, move! Get the fuck out of here!”_

Almost like he was reading Dwight’s thoughts, the killer turned his head, peering into the darkness past the locker door slits. Dwight’s eyes widened and he could feel a block of ice in his gut. The killer leaned closer, taking in a loud, raspy whiff and the unfortunate survivor knew he was a goner. 

He jumped at the sound of an explosion somewhere in the distance. It was a sound he was well acquainted with – some idiot messed up a generator. The killer roared, instantly agitated by the sound. He spun around, winding his gruesome chainsaw, and took off holding it whirring over his head with next to no effort, leaving behind the smell of motor oil and viscera.

Lucidity came back to Dwight gradually over the next few minutes. He was a lucky bastard, unlike the poor fucker that just alarmed the killer. He hoped they got away in time, but he was not about to go and check. 

“Okay. Steady breaths, give yourself a moment to calm down and then you have to move.” He whispered, hugging his goosebump-covered shoulders for some comfort.

And just as he allowed himself a moment of respite, the hairs at the back of his neck stood up when he realized someone’s quick footsteps and loud breathing were getting closer and closer. Before he could go into full panic mode again, the creaky doors swung open revealing a panting, sweaty figure looming outside. 

“Party for two, coming through!” The figure announced, squeezing into the locker and shutting the doors behind them.

Only labored breathing spoiled the silence in the dark, cramped space. Dwight trembled uncontrollably, despite a warm forearm pressed to his, too shocked to process what was happening. He wasn’t being eviscerated or carried off to a hook, but that still didn’t explain what was going on.

“You okay there, sport?” The stranger asked, finally managing to catch his breath.

“Y-yeah.” Dwight gulped, finally recognizing that relaxed, yet cocky voice. It was Ash, the new guy with the prosthetic hand. 

“First time?”

“No, I’ve… I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Same here. This isn’t my first rodeo, though…” Ash paused, trying to find the most suitable metaphor. “Well, I’ve been fighting weird evil shit for decades, but I gotta admit, I can still be surprised.”

Dwight just gave a dismissive ‘uh-huh’, glad his heart finally stopped racing. He didn’t like being stuck with this Ash person in the locker, but he wasn’t looking forward to leaving their flimsy hidey hole either. 

Someone’s pained cry echoed in the distance. 

“Fucking hell…” Dwight whimpered, shaking his head like a child wanting to snap out of a bad dream. But this wasn’t a dream as he learned before on more than one occasion. This was real. Horrible, hopeless and unexplained, but very real.

“You need to relax, bud.” Ash snickered, gently nudging his side with his elbow. “You can’t face off against evil with your butt clenched tight like that.”

“Relax?!” Dwight snapped, sharply turning his head to glare at the faint outline of the man. “How the hell am I supposed to relax in a situation like this?!”

“You ever cranked the old hog while your life is on the line?” The man’s white teeth shone in the dark.

Dwight’s jaw dropped. Before he could process what he just heard from this lecherous old bastard, he felt Ash’s arm move and then the characteristic, almost cartoonish sound of a zipper being pulled down. 

“Are you crazy?!” He whispered panicked. 

“Kind of a bold claim in a place like this, don’t you think?” Ash replied unbothered, pulling his lucky shorts down to free his junk. “Look, I’m not asking you to jerk me off yourself, I got this bad boy under control. You can leave any time.” He said with a smile in his voice and Dwight could picture Ash giving him a smug grin. 

“Hey, this is my locker! I hid here first!” He protested, ignoring how the arm pressing against his started moving in that familiar jerking motion. 

“Well, I botched the generator to get that chainsaw wielding palooka off of you. No need to thank me.” 

“You did that?” Dwight asked astonished. In a place like this altruism was rare. “I… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The locker was silent once again. It also somehow got much hotter, stuffier. Dwight loosened his tie and undid the top button if his shirt, but that didn’t help at all. He fumbled with the tie, trying to ignore a pleased sigh Ash made, but he couldn’t focus. 

When was the last time he jerked off? Long. He hadn’t masturbated for weeks before ending up in this nightmarish realm, and hadn’t had a thought that was even remotely sexual since, too focused on staying alive. He stretched his back as much as he could in the restrictive space, feeling each individual muscle erupt in numb pain in response. God, he was tense. 

“Fucking prick…” He finally whispered, reaching to undo his belt. 

“Far be it from me how you’ve nicknamed it.” Ash snickered in response, his arm now moving faster, matching his breathing.

Biting his tongue, Dwight peeled his jeans down to his knees, straddling his legs as much as he could. Bracing his back against the rough plywood, he took his balls in one hand, gently cradling them in his sweaty grasp. His cock though he grabbed into a tight fist, jerking himself into full erection with zero tenderness, like he held a grudge against his own prick.

He never performed well under stress, not even in front of himself, but right now he was pissed off. At all the shitty jobs he had, at whatever force threw him into this nightmarish scenario, at this overconfident Ash motherfucker… His grip tightened and he realized he was hard like he hadn’t been in months, already dripping precome from his flushed tip. 

“You’re going to tear it off if you keep it up!” Ash warned, alarmed by how franticly Dwight’s arm moved.

“Shut up!” Dwight hissed, pausing to spit in his palm before resuming. “I need this, you can bail anytime if it bothers you that much!”

Never taking things too personally (well, almost never), Ash exhaled an amusing ‘hah’ through his nose, pausing pampering his own cock. His other hand, the mechanical one, gently closed around Dwight’s furiously jerking wrist, causing the younger man to halt and shoot him a death glare. 

“Easy…” Ash quietly whispered, guiding Dwight with a slow, steady hand, much to the other man’s bewilderment. “You’ll pop a blood vessel if you keep letting yourself get wound up like that. I get it, shit’s rough, but stress and anger will eat you alive if you let them. Relax…”

With that, he got back to pleasuring himself, but maintained a gentle grip around Dwight’s wrist, indirectly jerking him off as well. Conflicted at first, Dwight eventually just muttered a quiet ‘fuck it’, letting his hand be guided by Ash, ignoring how his asshole quivered and tightened in response to the situation and how his hips bucked into his wet, tight grip.

Did he just hear someone yell a warning in the distance? Did it matter? Not to Dwight. He desperately needed release after spending what seemed like a lifetime avoiding certain death and cowering in the shadows. Just one small win for Dwighty boy, was it too much to ask? At this point, he didn’t even bother he was getting some with the help of a crazy old bastard with a mechanical hand and a chin that could cut diamonds. 

“Not that I’m rushing or anything, but I usually don’t stick around after the deed is done.” Ash grunted, inches away from climax. “So, if you plan to blow your load, right about now would be a good-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Dwight groaned with strain, throwing his head back and hitting the plywood wall with a loud bang. A thick, viscous rope of backed up cum splashed against the door, immediately followed by another. And then some more, until Dwight was panting and exhausted, with his impressive load lazily dripping down the chipped wood, pooling below. 

Ash bit down on his lip, impressed by the volume from the unassuming scrawny fucker. Ready to follow suit, he stroked himself faster, quickly reaching climax and painting his side of the locker doors white in one uninterrupted spray. With a pleased ‘hmmm’ he shook off the last drop clinging to the tip of hic cock, releasing Dwight’s limp wrist. 

There was nothing more to be said. In silence, they sorted themselves out, listening in on the activity outside. 

A loud electronic buzzer caused them both to jump, then hold in their breaths. The doors! Someone was opening them!

“Looks like it’s our lucky night.” Ash grinned in the dark, brushing back his disheveled hair. “Race you to the exit!”

Giving Dwight a confident grin, he kicked the doors open and bolted towards the exit like a man half his age. 

“Asshole.” Dwight muttered, yet he was grinning as he followed.


End file.
